Welcome to Insanity: Population 1
by the-high-pirate
Summary: eh... to lazy just read. A little too weird for the little kiddies.


Once upon a time, when the world was still black and white, there lived a few messed up people. Messed-up Person number one was a big fat man with a gigantic mustache, and a tendency to shout mixed up jumbly phrases. He had a real name, Vernon Dursley. He lived in the funny farm, where he spent his time yelling mixed up jumbly phrases at the nice men in white lab coats.

Messed-up Person number two was a fairly normal sized man with aspirations to have a big fluffy pink mustache, but as he was born with abnormal hair growing genes, he had no hair except for a funny little orange tuft growing on his right pinkie finger. He liked trying to fix other people's problems. He worked at the funny farm, and made friends with the funny animals and talked to his tuft of hair. His name was Frank.

Messed-up Person number three was a weirdo who liked to spray stuff at people and wear a scary mask. Without his mask he was a nerd. And a geek. He wasn't popular. We'll just call him… Ugly. However, he doesn't have a place in this story, so we'll just ignore him.

One day, as Vernon was wandering the halls of the funny farm, he bumped into Frank. Now, this is an important, plot-changing meeting, so pay close attention.

"Hi Frank," said Vernon.

"Hi Vernon," said Frank.

"Hi Frank's tuft of hair," said Vernon's mustache.

"Hi Vernon's mustache," said Frank's tuft of hair.

"Oh dear," said both men. "Our facial/bodily hair seems to be communicating."

"Oh dear," said both hairs. "Our bodies seem to be communicating."

"Nice weather," said the men and hairs as the ceiling collapsed and rain poured down on them like condensation from a frozen tequila on a 32°F day.

"Well, goodbye then," said the men and hairs and went their own separate ways.

After this plot-changing exchange of dialogue, Frank proceeded down to the Let Me Fix Your Problems and Bring a Smile to Your Schizophrenic Face room. He glanced distractedly at his pretty pink clipboard. His schedule read this:

3:00 AM: Wake up and go have a quick pee

3:04 AM: Go back to sleep

6:30 AM: Wake up

6:31 AM: Take a shower

6:45 AM: Fix a bowl of cereal

6:46 AM: Fix a piece of toast

6:50 AM: Eat food

7:00 AM: Clear up dishes

7:02 AM: Get newspaper

7:03 AM: Place newspaper on coffee table, 3 square inches from the bottom left corner

7:05 AM: Sigh

7:05.1111119 AM: Head outside and catch a cab

7:30 AM: Arrive at work

7:33 AM: Grab cup of coffee

7:37 AM: Stare blankly at mindless paperwork

8:25 AM: Engage in plot-changing conversation

8:40 AM: Council disturbed boy with scar branded on forehead

Frank, on realizing he had skipped his morning sigh, sighed in a quiet, I-work-at-the-funny-farm way and pushed open the door to the counseling room. There sat a quiet dark haired boy with glasses.

"Hi!" said Frank cheerfully. "I'm Frank! You must be the disturbed boy with a scar branded on your forehead! I'm here to fix all your problems! So, how are you on this fine day!" he asked as a raging blizzard blew past his window. A passing duck was plastered onto the glass "Aaaflack" it groaned and slid down the 50 stories were it splattered on the ground and sued Aflack in its after life since it died on the job and wasn't fully covered.

"Eh, I'm fine. However, I wouldn't call this fine weather. Hey, what's the date Frank?" asked the disturbed boy with a scar branded on his forehead.

"Uh… June 15!" replied Frank as the snow piled up in the window.

"Oh really? Can I leave?" asked the disturbed boy with a scar branded on his forehead.

"No, why!" asked Frank.

"Well… today's the Quiditch house tournament, and I'd really appreciate it if I could go make a spectacular and incredibly ridiculous and insanely lucky catch, beating Slytherin by just a few points, then act the quiet humble hero after I save someone's skin just days before the summer term ends." replied the disturbed boy with a scar branded on his forehead.

"Wow!" exclaimed Frank. "You really do have problems! Now, let's talk about this!"

"Erm, I'd rather not. I really feel like falling into another one of Voldemort's traps," said the disturbed boy with a scar branded on his forehead.

"Let's start with your name!" chirped Frank. "What's your name!"

"Harry Potter. Look, can I please go? I want to cause someone to die by my own stupidity," answered Harry, feeling a bit irritated. He felt his hero instincts swirling around.

"You sound like you've been through some rough things!" said Frank happily. He felt he was really getting somewhere. "How'd you get that scar?"

"You are really irritating me, little man," growled Harry through gritted teeth.

"Would you like to talk about it!" asked Frank.

"_NO._" Harry said angrily.

"I think you have some pent-up anger!" observed Frank, making notes on his clipboard.

Harry started smoking at the nostrils. Frank merely smiled serenely. He could tell that an emotional outburst was coming. He was expecting lots of tears. He reached calmly under his desk and pulled out a box of tissues. Harry's ears meanwhile were now emitting sparks. Frank smiled expectantly at Harry and pushed the tissues closer towards him. It wouldn't be much longer now until he burst.

**_BOOM!_**

Frank blinked, a little surprised. Harry had burst all right-into flames. A blazing inferno sat in the cushy chair across his desk.

"I'll just leave you alone a little while to calm down. Your attendant will come fetch you soon. I'll see you tomorrow at the same time; I think we've made some great progress!" said Frank and left the smoldering chair and Harry the amazing combusting disturbed kid with a scar branded on his forehead behind.

**Author's note: I own neither Harry nor Vernon. Everything else is ALL MINE! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! In that bit where Harry is wanting very badly save the world, I was just having a bit of fun. I admire JK ROWLING and Harry and whatever he does is her business. I love the books and cried at the end of the last two. Sniffle If you haven't yet finished the 6th book you might want to lay off this fic for a bit, until you've finished it. If you didn't realize that someone was going to die, you're stupid. It's not my fault if I revealed anything here, you're just really thick.**


End file.
